


Three Times Obi-Wan Tried to Be There for His Grandpadawan, and the One Time She Was There for Him

by LazarusII, Pandora151



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Angst, Bamf!Obi-Wan Kenobi, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt, Fire, Found Family, Gen, Grand Master & Grand Padawan Bonding, Heavy Angst, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Possession, Whump, Whumptober 2020, magical healing, wrongfully accused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusII/pseuds/LazarusII, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151
Summary: There, staring up at him, were the faces of his family—the faces of the fallen, the faces of the survivors with the most bounty on their heads.  The Jedi Order, once dedicated to the Republic and everything it used to stand for, before everything fell apart, now reduced to this.…Bodies.  Younglings, Knights, Masters, all lying on the ground, discarded, forgotten.  Betrayed in the worst ways possible, all because of him.Left behind.He blinked, and there was a flash of fire across his vision, and a horrible scream ringing through his ears, an echo of a memory.“I hate you!”
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 52
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Sooooo this is one of the surprises we had planned for Whumptober this year :) We're really excited to be getting started with this fic, with today's Whumptober prompt: Fire.
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> Potential triggers for this chapter: violence, blood, injury

Smoke filled the sky, hanging low over the forest in a thick, roiling mass of ash and soot that permeated the air as the battle raged in its midst. Occasional bursts of artillery fire lit the darkened horizon, coloring the air a terrifying, brilliant green as the deafening roar reverberated across the warzone. 

Eyes narrowed, gaze moving across the red-tinged, sunset sky, Obi-Wan frantically shouted commands into his wrist comm, dragging himself forwards, his lightsaber blazing in his hand as he deflected enemy fire. With every movement, his right leg burned terribly, invisible flames licking at the still-smoldering blaster wound in his thigh. 

By the light of the setting sun, Obi-Wan could see the distant shadows of fighters flitting in and out of the hazy upper atmosphere. 

_“General Kenobi—need you t—anti-aircraft fire—”_ Yularan’s voice cut in and out of the thick static. _“We don’t have a choice.”_

Obi-Wan hissed as a blaster bolt sheared close to his right arm, the blazing heat tracking against his bare skin. 

“We need more time,” he yelled into the small device. “The gunships don’t stand a chance. There’s no way we’ll have the landing zone clear by then.” 

_“—al Skywalker will only be able to hold the opening for so long. Five minutes at most, General—t’s—”_ The communication was overtaken by static, rendering everything the Admiral said incoherent. 

The entire battlefield was a mess, and Obi-Wan knew that any hope of victory was slim—and the potential for failure steadily climbing higher and higher. 

For one, the only landing site that the Republic could manage had been many klicks from the Separatist base, and that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that most of it was _marshland_. 

To only worsen their odds, they’d discovered Separatists had mined most of the land around the base, save for a narrow valley that was both heavily-forested and surrounded by concealed anti-aircraft weaponry. 

Approach on foot was nearly impossible. And to add the presence of a blockade… 

* * *

The ground shook, and a great plume of dirt, debris, and ash blasted into the air on the Southern ridge of the valley. Obi-Wan felt a wave of pure agony race across his body, echoes of the pain from the men who had been caught in the blast. 

More explosions followed, and Obi-Wan actively had to force himself to refocus on _his_ battle—and to ignore the cries and shouts of his men around him. 

He and the rest of the 212th had been battling back and forth across the valley, struggling to gain any headway against the waves of droids that guarded the Separatist base. 

First, their target had been the communications hub on the outside of the compound—and when that became impossible without reinforcements, their directive had changed to the heavy artillery… and _that_ was proving to be just as futile an initiative. 

Needless to say, everything was on the verge of falling apart. It was only a matter of time—time that they did _not_ have.

“Everyone get down.” Cody’s yell cut through the air as a high-pitched whine met Obi-Wan’s ears. 

Without missing a beat, Obi-Wan crouched, just as a wave of machine gunfire peeled over his head. 

There came the crunch of metal, and a hiss of short-circuiting electronics. The prone, broken forms of droids collapsed into the shadows of the nearby trees, sparks hissing and spitting into the air from where the blasterfire had cut into their bodies. 

For a moment, there was silence, and then a deafening roar as droids spilled down towards them. 

Cursing out loud, Obi-Wan staggered to his feet, the Force infusing his muscles with strength as he propelled himself forwards, slicing through droids. 

He needed to hurry. Ahsoka was going to land soon, and his battalion was all alone—the _only_ ones who were close enough to the anti-aircraft turrets to even have a chance. 

Obi-Wan carved the head off of a commando droid and stumbled slightly as his boot caught on the loose wiring of a fallen droid. The Force enveloped his body, steadying him. 

Once he regained his footing, Obi-Wan exhaled. Using the Force like this—to propel himself forwards, to simply keep going—was generally frowned upon, but in this case, he had little choice.

There was simply far too much at stake.

On his wrist, visible in the moments when he wasn’t swinging his blade, the small timer ticked lower and lower, slowly counting down to the moment when Obi-Wan’s Grandpadawan would enter the atmosphere. 

_Three minutes._

Gritting his teeth, pain ricocheting through his body, Obi-Wan leaped forward into the trees, and heard his men crashing after him, their boots loud against the brittle undergrowth. The rhythmic _boom_ of the heavy cannonfire grew louder. 

Their target _had_ to be close—and this was the first time they’d managed to make any headway—

Droids seemingly burst out of the darkness, their yellow, red, and blue visual sensors glowing eerily in the half-light. 

_Two minutes._

He heard men relaying orders behind him, and then Cody’s yell—a warning. 

A sharp whistle filled the air and a projectile flew over Obi-Wan’s head, aimed straight through the gap between the branches. 

The turret detonated in a massive wave of heat, flames, and shrapnel. Obi-Wan threw his hands up over his face, eyes watering from the bright intensity of the explosion. 

The first gunship that dropped beneath the cloudline was already breaking apart in a great mass of flames and smoke. Obi-Wan felt his fingers tighten around his saber, knuckles whitening as he felt the last echoing cries of the men illuminating the Force.

Obi-Wan could feel sadness bleeding through his bond with Ahsoka. He bowed his head.

Another flare of pain lit the Force and Obi-Wan saw metallic objects fall from a different location, smoke trailing after the debris. 

The three remaining gunships soon came into view, pitching from side to side as bursts of gunfire blazed on all sides. The fire raged around around him, a deadly storm that brought another layer of frenzy to the battle.

Lightsaber a blur, Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist as Ahsoka’s presence drew closer. She was hurting, grieving even before setting foot planetside, the Force shuddering with her pain, pulling at Obi-Wan through their bond with clawed, desperate hands.

Obi-Wan heard Anakin first, the man’s distorted, panicked yells crackling through the comms. 

_“Ahsoka—Snips, do you copy? Obi-Wan, do you have eyes on Ahsoka?—Ahsoka!”_

Obi-Wan doubled over, chest heaving, as his lungs screamed for air. Pain lanced up his injured leg, and he automatically clapped a hand to the wound, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to breathe evenly. 

Despair sank into every bone in his body at the sight. 

The gunship was on fire, careening downwards over the center of the valley. 

“Anakin—Ahsoka’s down.” Obi-Wan’s voice was raw. “The gunship is—” 

Obi-Wan turned his head and fixed his gaze on Commander Cody’s visor, mouth opening to voice his next course of action. 

But the clone Commander already knew. 

“We’ll take care of things here, General,” Cody yelled, voice nearly swallowed by the sound of enemy fire. “Get the Commander.” 

Nodding to the man, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and plunged himself into the Force, letting the light fuel his body, infusing his tired, aching muscles with strength. 

Starting at a limp, Obi-Wan willed his legs to carry him towards the doomed ship, focusing on keeping his right leg steady. Slowly, he began to pick up his pace, arms pumping as a terrible tingling pressure spread across the wounded limb. Soon, his body became a blur as the Force propelled him forward at inhuman speeds. 

* * *

By the time Obi-Wan reached the ship, the flames had already engulfed the cockpit and most of the front end. Eyes narrowed against the bright flames, Obi-Wan let himself collapse against a nearby tree, nails digging into the rough bark.

He was exhausted, fatigue weighing down his body, and his leg was steadily growing numb, the pain sparking up his leg like lightning. 

In the Force, Ahsoka’s presence was faint— _too_ faint. 

Sucking in his breath, Obi-Wan let himself ride upon the waves of light, reaching out his consciousness towards his Grandpadawan. 

_‘Ahsoka?’_ he all but shouted into their bond, willing the apprentice to respond. 

She didn’t. 

_“Obi-Wan?”_ Anakin’s voice was crackling over the comms, distorted in his panic. _“Obi-Wan, do you copy? Have you reached Ahsoka’s position? Is she alright?”_

Brow furrowing, Obi-Wan exhaled, pushing aside the overwhelming sense of panic and despair that radiated from Anakin. 

Reaching out with one hand, Obi-Wan felt an echo of the scorched durasteel beneath his palm. He could feel life inside the gunship. There _were_ survivors—but they wouldn’t last unless he helped them. 

Against his face and hands, the heat of the flames was growing, far past any sense of comfort. As the heat radiated across his exposed flesh, Obi-Wan concentrated on the LAAT’s large door.

Slowly, the metal creaked and bent to Obi-Wan’s will, and he let out a soft groan as the exertion bit deep into his mind and body. It was caught—nearly fused to the gunship’s chassis. 

Obi-Wan could feel his skin burning as he extended both hands, fingers curling as he warped his presence about the stubborn metal door. Pulling desperately at the Force, he grit his teeth, shoulders trembling.

The LAAT groaned, and Obi-Wan heard the sound of more rhythmic footfalls. Droids were coming, and so was the battlefield—both Republic and Separatist forces drawn to the large plume of smoke billowing from the center of the valley. 

With a yell, Obi-Wan threw the last of his energy into the Force. The door shuddered, and a terrible screech of metal filled the air as the large panel came free, crashing to the ground. 

There came a whistle of artillery, and Obi-Wan felt the Force light up a warning like a beacon. Eyes going wide, Obi-Wan threw himself to the side just as the shell hit the ground. 

The force of the blast sent Obi-Wan flying across the clearing. Surrounding himself with the Force as best he could, he tried to cushion his fall—

Obi-Wan hit the ground _hard_ , his body cracking against something hard before he rolled to a stop, disorientated. 

Everything hurt—his hands, face, skin—

Distantly, he could feel a terrible burning sensation, the sensation of flames licking against his body… 

He gasped for breath.

Darkness flickered at the edge of his vision—

And then he saw no more. 

* * *

The next time that Obi-Wan opened his eyes, it was to the feeling of a pair of strong arms gripping beneath his arms, pulling him roughly off the ground. 

He heard shouts, and vaguely registered a red-orange smear of color across his vision. 

_Ahsoka._ His heart sank. 

He’d failed the mission and his men… to keep them safe…

He’d failed Anakin too. 

Mind barely comprehending what he was seeing, Obi-Wan watched as the white-armored figures moved in and out of the flames, carrying… _people_ —the survivors…

Obi-Wan tried to move, to return to the doomed gunship—he had to know if she was alright, or—

_“General, no—wn.”_

_“—t mov—“_

The hands guided him to the ground as Obi-Wan’s body betrayed him, the darkness embracing his mind for a second time. 

A deafening roar crashed over his senses, distant and oddly… _detached_ , but very much real.

His last thoughts were with his Grandpadawan.

_I’m sorry—Ahsoka…_

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the distance, he saw it: two figures, and flashes of blue and green light, locked in a lethal, deadly dance.
> 
> Anakin’s anguish was palpable in the Force, along with the murky darkness that had taken over Ahsoka’s presence. Obi-Wan shivered, and he looked down at the foreign hilt that was strapped to his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This chapter is for Day 15 of Whumptober. The prompts are: Magical Healing | Possession
> 
> TW: violence 
> 
> Note that there is dialogue from the show in this one (the Mortis arc) and we do not claim it as our own! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_ “Are you referring to your friend, the Chosen One?” _

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows narrowed as the Son spoke, voice echoing eerily through the chamber. The Force shuddered slightly at his words, curling with a deep, terrible sense of warning.

_ “You might want to check up on him.” _ The Son smirked and turned to stare out the window at what Obi-Wan assumed was one of the courtyards.  _ “He’s a little…preoccupied right now.” _

_ Preoccupied?  _ Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed as a sense of foreboding washed through him. 

The Son’s presence seemed to expand, encompassing the room, laughing at his unease, a twisted, dark thing that pressed up against his mind. 

With a quick glance towards the Daughter, Obi-Wan turned on his heel and dashed from the room, heart drumming frantically against his ribs.

He didn’t quite know where he was going—the Father’s palace was cold and unfamiliar, filled with rooms and passages that trailed in many different directions, a labyrinth; as he ran, the pathways seemed to wind themselves around him, as though the building’s very design had been intended to create confusion.

The Force was screaming in his ears with the sort of urgency he only felt when something was about to go terribly  _ wrong _ .

Obi-Wan urged himself to move even faster, his breaths shuddering in his chest as he sprinted through the corridors, desperate to find Anakin and Ahsoka.

A whole array of different scenarios flashed through Obi-Wan’s mind, wild and filled with contradictions, fueled by the discordant state in the Force. 

Had Anakin found her? 

Had he succeeded? 

As if it could sense his thoughts, the darkness surged, and the Son’s distant laughter rang in Obi-Wan’s ears—as did a twisted, menacing whisper of death. 

_ The Son had taken her. Would he…? _

If so, then he was already too late.

He was  _ always  _ too late.

  
  


After all, Ahsoka was still recovering from their previous assignment, from  _ his  _ own mistakes. Obi-Wan had known that the mission had taken a toll on her, but instead of giving Ahsoka the time she needed to recover, he’d agreed to investigate the distress code that brought them to this planet.

And now…

The only solace he could find was the fact that Ahsoka had chosen to accompany them—and of her own free will. 

* * *

Obi-Wan shook his head as he emerged from the palace, feeling the cool night air biting through the layers of his robes.

He paused, reaching out into the Force, into the mass of confusion and darkness and  _ pain _ —

A sense of conflict and hostility in the Force pressed into his senses in a way that was just  _ wrong _ . 

And then he heard the distinctive clash of lightsabers, the telltale hissing sound coming from somewhere not too far away.

Oh…it was far worse than he previously thought.

Obi-Wan was running again, racing through the night, moving closer and closer. 

In the distance, he saw it: two figures, and flashes of blue and green light, locked in a lethal, deadly dance.

Anakin’s anguish was palpable in the Force, along with the murky darkness that had taken over Ahsoka’s presence. Obi-Wan shivered, and he looked down at the foreign hilt that was strapped to his belt.

But maybe…there  _ had  _ to be a way.

As he got closer, Obi-Wan noticed the frenzied, heavy swings of Ahsoka’s lightsaber, so different from her usual, graceful form. Anakin was on the defensive, clearly desperate to not hurt his Padawan.

Every now and then, Ahsoka’s presence would spike, the Dark Side exploding with a terrible sense of ‘want,’ as the apprentice telegraphed her moves, silently begging her Master to strike her down, the bandages on her arms glowing eerily from the light of their blades. 

Obi-Wan felt his gut twist. This was the Son’s game— _ all  _ of it. 

And Anakin was slowly losing, unable and unwilling to respond to the horrifying request. 

Once Obi-Wan was at the edge of the courtyard, Anakin swiftly twisted his saber, forcing Ahsoka’s lightsaber out of her hand. But before Anakin could catch it, Ahsoka leapt over him, landing softly on a dark stone ledge behind Anakin.

Obi-Wan took a breath and stepped forward, igniting his lightsaber. Anakin glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Then, together, they turned back to Ahsoka, who was staring at them with bright yellow eyes, both lightsabers held out before her, humming.

“Two Jedi,” she sneered. “ _ Finally _ —a challenge.”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as Ahsoka jumped towards them, her lightsabers arching towards them with deadly precision.

Jar’kai had recently become an interest of Ahsoka’s; Obi-Wan had started teaching her the dual-blade style only a few weeks ago, but already, she was showing tremendous progress. Normally, Obi-Wan would be impressed.

This situation was anything  _ but  _ normal.

The Force screamed in his ears as they fought, as Obi-Wan tried desperately to reach his Grandpadawan through their bond, searching for the Light that she always possessed, radiant and bright…

Right now, though, it felt as though that brilliance had been snuffed out, erased… _ gone _ .

And the realization that he might never see  _ that  _ Ahsoka Tano ever again dug its way into Obi-Wan’s chest like a knife. 

The Dark Side ruthlessly tore into his thoughts and clung to his worries as it frantically searched for a gap in his mental shields, filling the air with a terrible, dark presence that smothered Obi-Wan’s senses. 

What happened next seemed to pass by in a blur of pain as the dark barbs railed against his mind… Obi-Wan couldn’t think—he couldn’t feel… 

He was fighting—his lightsaber blazing in front of him—Ahsoka’s snarl, a distant echo in his ears.

The blade, the weapon that the Daughter had given him— _ gone _ . 

Falling to one knee, eyes wide, Obi-Wan only felt the fog lift when the Son’s sickening, yellow eyes fixed on his face. 

Smirking, the Force-born Sith spun about the cursed blade as though it were a toy, laughing coldly.

_ ‘Pathetic.’  _ The Son’s snide remark rang through the Force, a cruel echo of laughter. 

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of pure hatred flood into his mind from his bond with Anakin. 

Ahsoka smiled at them, her corrupted Sith gaze contorted into a horrifying mask of pure mirth. 

Frozen, Obi-Wan could only watch—and feel as the Force began whispering once more. 

  
  


_ “Thank you,”  _ the Son said nonchalantly, swinging the blade around experimentally.  _ “Your usefulness has come to an end.” _

Obi-Wan’s breaths froze in his lungs . He watched  as the Son brought two fingers up to Ahsoka’s forehead, and then— _ and then _ —

The Force shattered as Ahsoka fell, her body limp like a puppet cut from its strings. Her lightsaber rolled out of her palm, clattering to the floor next to her body.

“No!” Anakin shouted, rushing forward, but Obi-Wan could barely hear it over the blood rushing in his ears, over the sound of his heart pounding at the sight of his Grandpadawan’s motionless body. 

The Force was breaking, and all he could do was stand and  _ watch _ , transfixed as the pressure on his mind began to increase once more. 

The Son lifted a hand easily, and Anakin flew backwards, landing on his side with a grunt.

_ “The Jedi have brought me the dagger,”  _ the Son said, turning back to the Father,  _ “and you have brought yourself.” _

Obi-Wan found his gaze being torn away from the confrontation, his eyes passing over the still and broken form of his Grandpadawan. His ears were ringing now, a strange echo to how it felt when he last lost someone like this.

He blinked and, for a moment, saw the red ray shields around him, followed by Theed’s power generator, and then…the echo of Qui-Gon’s voice, ringing painfully in his ears.

It was the same. 

He’d failed him, and now…he’d failed Anakin  _ and  _ Ahsoka, as well.

_ Failure.  _

A rift was forming in his mind, a crack in his mental barriers caused by even the slightest loss of control. Anakin’s presence was stifling, a storm of anger and rage and hate that battered his mind, an accompaniment to the Son’s own darkness that surrounded him on all sides. 

_ ‘To think that you could succeed,’  _ the words whispered into Obi-Wan’s thoughts.  _ ‘People around you die, Jedi.’  _

Obi-Wan collapsed forwards, hands pressed to the stone. 

_ ‘That’s all they will ever do.’  _

_ ‘You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.’ _

_ “Now, Father.”  _ The Son’s voice brought Obi-Wan’s thoughts back to the present, back where they  _ should  _ be.  _ “You will die.”  _ He lifted his hands, poised to bring the dagger down to the Father’s chest, and then—

The Daughter rushed forward.  _ “Father!”  _ she cried, and as her arms embraced the Father’s shoulders, the dagger fell.

The Daughter’s pained gasp echoed through the courtyard. She slumped backwards, limp in her Father’s arms, eyes fluttering closed.

Pained anguish exploded into the Force so quickly that Obi-Wan sucked in a breath at the intensity of it, closing his eyes as the Son gasped in horrified shock. 

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the Son was flying away, the echoes of agony howling into the wind as the gargoyle flew into the night sky.

The sound of hurried footsteps drew Obi-Wan’s attention back to the ground, and he looked to see Anakin sprinting to Ahsoka’s body. 

Slowly, limbs heavy, Obi-Wan found himself following his former Padawan, too stunned, too  _ useless _ , to be doing anything more.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in grief, stomach twisting at the sight of Ahsoka’s clouded, empty gaze. 

Nearby, the Father pulled the dagger out of the Daughter’s back and carefully lowered her to the ground.

This was too much. 

_ All  _ of it was too much.

_ “My daughter,”  _ the Father was saying, voice colored with the same agony that Obi-Wan felt,  _ “what have I done?” _

Obi-Wan looked down and away, hearing the words echo in his mind.

_ What have I done? _

_ He  _ should have done better—he should have  _ known  _ that the Son would do this. It all could have been stopped if Obi-Wan was faster, or if he confronted the Son with the Daughter, or—

The Daughter’s coughs, harsh and uneven, brought Obi-Wan’s thoughts to a standstill. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, on what could have been. Not now, not when everything was still so uncertain.

_ “Do not hate him, Father,”  _ the Daughter whispered, voice shaking.  _ “It is his nature.” _

Obi-Wan frowned, looking at the tree right behind the Daughter. The leaves were flowing suddenly, falling into ash, the bark glowing oddly. Even as he watched, the light shimmered before fading away into darkness.

_ “No,”  _ the Father replied, and his voice trembled.  _ “All is lost. The balance has been broken.” _

As the Force screamed and cried in his ears, Obi-Wan found himself agreeing. There was no balance now—the Light had fallen, and now…

There was only darkness, only destruction.

_ “I thought by bringing you here, I would—”  _ The Father’s head lowered.  _ “But I destroyed everything...” _

Anakin exhaled, and in that moment, Obi-Wan realized that he hadn’t once looked away from Ahsoka, not even when the Father was speaking.

“Can you help her?” Anakin asked, glancing down at Ahsoka.

There was no bringing back people from death. Obi-Wan had long resigned himself to that fact, especially after Qui-Gon—

_ “There is no light,”  _ the Father whispered, words echoing with finality. 

Obi-Wan felt his heart fall from his throat into his stomach, as cold reality crashed back into him. 

_ “An evil has been unleashed, and the Dark Side shall consume her.” _

This was it. Ahsoka was gone—his Grandpadawan was  _ dead _ , because of his mistakes, and now everything was broken. The Light was gone, the Dark would prevail, and the Force was broken.

“You must help her!” Anakin exclaimed, as futile as it was.

_ “I cannot undo what is done,”  _ the Father replied, echoing Obi-Wan’s thoughts.  _ “There is no hope.” _

Anakin was protesting, his voice cracking as emotion bled into his words, and Obi-Wan’s heart clenched at the sound of the raw desperation in his former Padawan’s voice. 

Anakin had never really learned how to let go, but now…it seemed as though he had no choice but to learn that lesson now, as painful and difficult as it was.

The Father bowed his head, and the Daughter’s hand rose up to cup his cheek. Wordlessly, her hand fell back to point towards Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed. He watched as the Father stood, moving between Ahsoka and the Daughter. The Father gestured, and Anakin stood up, placing himself in front of the Father. He kneeled and closed his eyes.

What happened next was something that Obi-Wan would never be able to fully describe, let alone understand. The Force surged in his mind, Light flooding into his senses. He stepped back, covering his eyes with his arm as Anakin’s eyes started glowing.

Ahsoka’s body lifted along with the Daughter’s, almost as  _ one _ , and Anakin’s head fell back as the light continued to shine from his eyes, so bright that Obi-Wan’s own eyes were beginning to water from the sensation.

Then, Anakin trembled, and his hands dropped followed by his head, clearly spent, exhaustion bleeding into the Force.

Obi-Wan looked away, unable to watch any longer.

A cough broke the silence, and was quickly followed by another.

Swallowing thickly, Obi-Wan turned back towards his Grandpadawan, and—

Ahsoka was sitting up, chest heaving as she visibly struggled for breath, and Anakin was moving forward, pulling his Padawan into a desperate embrace. 

Obi-Wan slowly made his way towards Ahsoka and knelt beside Anakin, feeling relief rush through him as Ahsoka’s familiar presence snapped back into existence.

Anakin sighed in relief. “Hey, Snips,” he said, voice trembling.

“What’s…going on?” Ahsoka asked, eyes half-open. 

She turned to look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan found himself unable to answer, and nodded to the Padawan instead. 

What  _ could  _ he say?

…

It was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes widened slightly as Ahsoka stared up at the Council. Obi-Wan watched as her gaze flicked towards him. 
> 
> Obi-Wan’s eyes fell, unable to meet Ahsoka’s stare.
> 
> The guilt was becoming too much for him to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back! We're so excited to post another chapter of this fic :)
> 
> Buckle up, this one's Sad.
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> Please note: this chapter contains dialogue from S5E18, The Wrong Jedi.

Obi-Wan spent the entire trip back to Coruscant from Anoat researching on his datapad, desperate for answers. He searched for any information he could find that would help prove Ahsoka’s innocence, or even anything that would prevent the Senate from acting outside of their jurisdiction.

He suspected that the issue would come up, as soon as Ahsoka was found.

As the shuttle jolted itself out of hyperspace, Obi-Wan took control, guiding it away from the Temple and towards the Senate building. All around him, the city skyline seemed to glow, the buildings and various constructs glittering in the light of the setting sun. 

Obi-Wan knew that Anakin and Plo were already searching for Ahsoka, and that, eventually, the apprentice would be found and brought back to the Temple. 

It worried him greatly, sending waves of unease deep into his bones. While he trusted Ahsoka, her support was dwindling, the odds stacking increasingly against her… and now, Obi-Wan had to focus on what would come afterwards.

||

As soon as Obi-Wan landed in the visitors’ hangar, he rushed towards the lift, restless and uneasy as he paced the elevator’s interior. He could feel Anakin’s desperation in the Force, echoing Obi-Wan's own sense of despair.

The lift shuddered to a stop, and before the doors finished sliding open, Obi-Wan was already moving through, hurrying to reach his destination.

As soon as he arrived, Obi-Wan paused outside the door, giving himself a moment to breathe.

He _had_ to do this, to make things right. 

For Ahsoka.

… And for Anakin. 

Obi-Wan knocked on the door and waited. 

A minute crept by…and then the door slid open.

“General Kenobi,” Tarkin greeted, raising his eyebrows.

“Admiral,” Obi-Wan replied, nodding.

“May I ask why you’ve come to meet me _without_ making an appointment?” Tarkin asked, eyes flashing slightly. “You must understand, I have a busy schedule.”

With a quick, even breath, Obi-Wan squashed the annoyance that had begun to gnaw at his patience and thread its way into his mind, and instead focused on keeping his voice calm and level.

“Forgive me, Admiral,” he replied. “But it’s a matter of utmost urgency.”

Tarkin’s eyes narrowed before he stepped back, allowing Obi-Wan into his office. As he walked in, Obi-Wan took in the sight of the gaudy decorations and overly-expensive furniture with a strange sense of mild disgust. And yet, somehow Tarkin’s rather…ostentatious tastes seemed unsurprising. 

After all, the man seemed to relish in his rank… 

The Admiral gestured at the chair in front of his desk before seating himself, pulling Obi-Wan from his thoughts. 

Obi-Wan followed suit, brow furrowing as he noted how much lower the guest seat was located than Tarkin’s. 

A power move devoid of all subtly—a blatant use of intimidation. 

“Well?” Tarkin asked, hands clasped in front of him. “I don’t have all day, General.”

“I understand.” Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “I have an inquiry regarding the Senate’s intentions about Padawan Tano’s situation. Surely...you understand that this is a _Jedi_ matter.”

A hint of ice entered his last few words. 

Tarkin’s eyebrows twitched.

“General Kenobi.” The Admiral’s voice positively dripped with disdain. “Surely, _you_ understand that this was a Republic military matter from the very beginning.”

Taking a moment to move a stack of papers, Tarkin leaned himself up in his seat and made a show of lacing his fingers together once more. 

“—And with the amount of evidence the Padawan has against her, it might be best for the Senate to take matters into their own hands.”

The frustration that Obi-Wan had been fighting, suddenly came to a boil. He shook his head. “Evidence can be falsified.”

“To _this_ extent?” Tarkin’s eyes narrowed, voice incredulous. “The fact that she ran away and claimed fugitive status should be telling enough.”

“You’ve worked with her before, Admiral. You _know_ her—”

Tarkin sighed loudly, cutting Obi-Wan off mid-sentence. “And this is exactly why the Jedi should _not_ handle these matters. You are too soft, too _blind_ to see what is happening right in front of you,” Tarkin hissed.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what, exactly, would that be?” he asked, voice low, frowning.

The frustration on Tarkin’s face slowly morphed into an easy smile, and Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold.

“You have bias, Kenobi.” Tarkin’s voice was soft, a threat dancing upon every syllable. “And so does the rest of your Council. And that _bias_ may very well be your downfall.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Obi-Wan replied icily.

“Really?” Tarkin raised an eyebrow. “Then, remind me. You were the one who trained General Skywalker, were you not? He was your… _Padawan_?”

The last word came out as a sneer, as though Tarkin was disgusted by saying something so sacred to Jedi tradition.

Before Obi-Wan could even reply, Tarkin continued, his snide voice echoing slightly in Obi-Wan’s ears.

“And, of course, Skywalker _was_ the one training Tano.” The Admiral gestured passively, to the side. “So it’s only logical to conclude that there is some sort of a connection between you and _fugitive_ Tano.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, seething internally. “This—” A hand came to rest on Tarkin’s spotless desk. 

“—has _nothing_ to do with—”

“Are you sure? Were you not the one who, weeks ago, told me about how the Order considered its lineages as sacred?” Tarkin challenged, raising his eyebrows. “Or do you consider such... _relationships_ as a matter of convenience?”

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan took a moment to breathe. 

With a sigh, he opened his eyes, looking directly at the Admiral.

“No, of course not,” Obi-Wan once again found himself fighting to keep his voice even. “Lineages _are_ sacred, and Ahsoka is…important to me.”

“Then you have no argument,” Tarkin said. “You are too close to the matter.”

Obi-Wan’s heart sank as he took a moment to reevaluate his position. As much as he disliked Tarkin, what the Admiral was saying made _sense_. 

Ahsoka was Obi-Wan’s Grandpadawan, his _lineage_. 

His family. 

And _nothing_ would ever change that. 

Obi-Wan took another breath before leaning back in his seat once more. A ghost of a smile made its way onto Tarkin’s face, curling the man’s lip. The Admiral _knew_ he was winning, that victory was right at his fingertips. 

“That may be so,” Obi-Wan murmured, “but you _must_ consider the possibility that someone is framing her.”

“It is…possible.” Tarkin mused, but then waved a hand casually to the side. “But we have seen other Jedi go down a similar path. Jedi Master…Krell—was it? And with all evidence pointed towards Tano, there is little room left to believe that there is another, _true_ culprit—if you will.”

Straightening his uniform, Tarkin got to his feet before venturing over to the single office window, eyes glittering as he seemed to analyze the ships rushing across Coruscant’s sky. 

Obi-Wan noted the faint sound of sirens echoing in the distance. 

Around him, the Force was uncharacteristically silent, and that fact _alone_ was enough to cause a small wave of shivers racing down his spine. 

Even his bond with Anakin was absent of its usual light and strength. 

_Like the calm before a storm_ , Obi-Wan’s mind supplemented. 

He pushed away the thought with a vengeance. 

The hunt for Ahsoka was continuing, and Obi-Wan, for all that he _tried_ to help his Grandpadawan, to prove her innocence, was going to fail her, once again.

“Now, I must request you to leave,” Tarkin said, fixing Obi-Wan with a look of disdain. “I’m due to meet with the Chancellor in a few minutes.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Understood, Admiral,” he replied, standing up from the chair. 

With a sense of empty defeat, he turned and walked towards the office’s exit.

“Oh—and one more thing, Master Kenobi.”

Tarkin’s voice stopped him at the doorway. “The _Senate_ has yet to make a decision on how to proceed.” Tarkin’s eyes positively _gleamed_ in the light cast from the Coruscant skyline. “But if it were up to me, fugitive Tano would be convicted of treason against the Republic.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but Tarkin gave him a dismissive look 

“—and face execution for her crimes…Perhaps you should be _grateful_ that it is not up to me—for her sake…and your own _._ ”

Obi-Wan’s throat went dry, and he nodded, hesitation dragging at his every move. There was the strange feeling of air rushing through his ears, as though someone had pulled the floor away from under his feet--he was falling, mind spinning as he struggled to comprehend what he had just heard… 

“Understood,” he croaked, his voice twinging oddly in his throat. And then, Obi-Wan was spinning around again, half-stumbling out of the office in his effort to just get _away_ from the man.

The corridor outside was largely empty, except for a few protocol droids all the way by the lifts, engrossed in conversation. Obi-Wan pulled himself a few paces away, into an alcove, resting a hand against the wall, and then he felt his knees buckle.

Instead of collapsing right onto the ground, Obi-Wan guided himself into a seated position, kneeling against the smooth marble. He shuddered with his breaths, hazy and uncertain.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, struggling to focus, to center himself.

If Ahsoka was still out there, on the run, she had to be trying to discover the truth. Obi-Wan could only hope that she would find _something_ that would prove herself innocent.

At this point, there was not much he could do besides that.

It did not take much longer for Ahsoka to be found and brought back to the Temple.

When Obi-Wan learned that she had been discovered with nano-droids in her possession and involvement with Ventress, of all people, he began to realize just how truly desperate the situation had become.

Things were spiraling out of control, and the HoloNet news was only adding fuel to the fire as the issue slowly gained coverage and drama. 

The Senate hadn’t yet told the Council that they intended to try Ahsoka through the Republic military, but when Admiral Tarkin’s transmission came in during a Council meeting, Obi-Wan knew exactly what was going to happen.

As expected, Tarkin informed the Council that the Senate would like Ahsoka to be indicted for acts of treason against the Republic.

Obi-Wan _knew_ that was coming.

What he _didn’t_ foresee was the request for Ahsoka to be expelled from the Jedi Order. For all that he thought about the possibilities, that was one that Obi-Wan did not consider.

And now—

As soon as Tarkin’s image fizzled away, Obi-Wan spoke up, intent on establishing what clearly had to be done.

“Surely we cannot do what Tarkin suggests,” Obi-Wan said, looking around at the rest of the Council. “We need to stand together with Ahsoka.”

“And yet, there’s evidence that she is indeed the mastermind behind the attack on the Temple,” Master Mundi replied.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. 

The mounting evidence against Ahsoka _was_ concerning, but it was still clear that the apprentice was being framed, that she was being set up only because of her role in the initial investigation of the bombing.

“She was found in possession of nano-droid explosives,” Master Tiin said, eyes bright. “This _alone_ is enough to convict her.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. _This_ was not what he expected.

“I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan,” Mace said, voice gentle. “But if the Council does as you suggest, it could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate.”

There was silence in the Council Chambers. 

Then, the Jedi Master sighed, looking away from Obi-Wan.

“I’m afraid we have little choice.”

_No…no, this cannot be happening._ Obi-Wan’s mind reeled. He’d failed, _again_ , and this time…it was even worse than he’d thought.

Master Yoda hummed softly, eyes lowering to the floor.

“To the Chamber of Judgment, summon Skywalker and his padawan, and in our decision, may the Force guide us,” he proclaimed.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and bowed his head in defeat.

It was clear now that all the effort Obi-Wan put into clearing Ahsoka’s name, to proving her innocence, had been in vain.

And now…he was going to do something unforgivable to his Grandpadawan.

As the gong sounded, Obi-Wan looked up at the ceiling, breathing deeply as he tightened the mental barriers about his mind. When he exhaled, the air puffed in front of him, almost like a wisp of frost being released into the Chamber of Judgment.

It was supposed to be a place of truth, of finding _answers_ \--a cold place, but not ruthless in its design… 

But this time… 

_The truth…_ Obi-Wan’s heart sank. 

The decision had already been made.

Across from him, Obi-Wan saw Master Plo looking at him, the darkened goggles tilted in his direction. There was a sense of deep sadness and worry emanating from Plo’s presence, something that echoed with Obi-Wan’s own emotions.

The last thing he _ever_ wanted was to do this, to hurt Anakin and Ahsoka like this.

But…he was a Jedi, and he had been outvoted.

Both he _and_ Master Plo.

Though the Kel Dor Master hadn’t been as vocal as Obi-Wan, he supported Ahsoka’s innocence to the very end. 

But there had been little choice in the matter.

Obi-Wan watched as the pillar in the center of the chamber rose, leaving Anakin and the Temple Guards behind as Ahsoka continued to rise, until she was standing at eye-level, at the center of the chamber.

“Padawan Tano,” Master Yoda began, “serious charges have been levied against you. How plead you?”

“Not guilty, Master,” Ahsoka replied, voice confident. “I would _never_ take the lives of innocents. The values of the Jedi are sacred to me.”

It was clear that Ahsoka was speaking the truth, but the damage had already been done.

In the Force, a part of Obi-Wan was tearing away, a terrible feeling of loss and pain bleeding into his mind—fueled by the pure devastation radiating up through his bond with Anakin. 

“There is evidence to the contrary,” Master Mundi said. “You were alone with Letta Turmond when she died. Can you explain this?”

“Someone used the Force against her,” Ahsoka replied, eyes shining.

“Which brings us to Ventress,” Master Plo said, voice quiet. “Can you explain your association with her?”

The Kel Dor’s presence vanished, withdrawn behind carefully-maintained barriers. Obi-Wan knew Plo despised his role in all of this, to be forced to ask the questions that had _already_ been answered. 

Obi-Wan caught himself gritting his teeth, and forced himself to maintain an impassive facade. 

Ahsoka’s brows furrowed, and her confusion spilled out into the Force.

“We had a…mutual understanding,” she explained, voice rising slightly. “I thought she was helping me.”

“Did she help you acquire the nanodroid weaponry found when you were apprehended, the same devices used in the bombing of the Temple?” Mace asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” Ahsoka insisted, “I was set up and deceived, as you are being deceived now!”

Obi-Wan nodded slightly. 

Ahsoka was _right_ ; there were larger forces at play here, more that needed to be explained. He only wished that the Senate would have allowed them the time to investigate further.

“The question is, Padawan Tano,” Mace replied, “ _who_ is deceiving us? Ventress, you, or someone else?”

Blue eyes widened slightly as Ahsoka stared up at the Council. Obi-Wan watched as her gaze flicked towards him. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes fell, unable to meet Ahsoka’s stare. 

The guilt was becoming too much for him to handle.

“I am _not_ deceiving you.” Ahsoka shook her head. “I would assume Ventress is, but I can’t be sure. My sense is…clouded.”

“Clouded by the Dark Side, these things are, Padawan Tano,” Master Yoda declared. “ _Dangerously_ clouded, but not just surrounding you, surrounding many things in these times.”

Anakin’s shock, which had seemed muted for some time, reignited like a spark of electricity, shooting into the Force with so much intensity that Obi-Wan almost clapped a hand to his head, a pounding ache radiating through his skull as the man’s rage swept through him.

“You’ve already made your decision, haven’t you? This meeting is just a formality!” Anakin roared, taking a step forward, hands balled up into fists. 

Obi-Wan forced himself to look away. He couldn’t take this anymore, not when…not like _this_.

A silence fell across the chamber, and Obi-Wan felt anger permeate the air, hanging heavily in the Force like a blood-red veil. 

“Reached a decision we have,” Master Yoda finally confirmed, letting out a quiet sigh, “though not in total agreement are we.”

There were invisible eyes fixed on him now, boring into Obi-Wan’s mind and body. Allowing his mental barriers to slam down over his thoughts, Obi-Wan kept his gaze fixed onto the console directly in front of him, both unable and in stubborn refusal to look anywhere else.

“It is the Council’s opinion that Padawan Ahsoka Tano has committed sedition against the Republic, and thus, she will be expelled from the Jedi Order,” Mace announced, his voice echoing through the chamber, ringing ominously in Obi-Wan’s ears. 

“You can’t do this!” Anakin shouted, rushing forward. The Guards standing by him ignited their lightsabers, blocking him from moving any further. 

The Force was an inferno, Anakin’s thoughts blazing into Obi-Wan’s mind. 

As the dais began to lower Ahsoka back to the ground, Master Mundi spoke, but Obi-Wan could barely hear him over the ringing of his ears. 

He closed his eyes, sinking back slightly into the wall behind him… And when he finally reopened them, Obi-Wan could only watch numbly as one of the Guards pulled out Ahsoka’s silka beads.

_“Henceforth, you are barred from the Jedi Order.”_

Ahsoka was then escorted out of the chamber, and Anakin was soon pushed out as well by the guards, a silent, violent storm of indignant fury. 

One by one, the rest of the Council left, until Obi-Wan stood alone, staring at the center of the chamber, where Ahsoka had once been standing.

“I’m sorry, Padawan,” he croaked, voice echoing softly. 

  
_“I am so sorry.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed to come almost from nowhere, a strange crushing feeling around his chest, preventing him from breathing deeply. Around him, the cantina swam in and out of focus as his head slipped into a steady pounding throb. 
> 
> On instinct, he opened himself up to the Force, seeking the comfort and light that had always soothed him before.
> 
> That was Obi-Wan’s first mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Day 18 of Whumptober. The prompt is: Panic Attack 
> 
> TW: depression, panic attack, disassociation 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The cantina was quiet when he walked in, nearly empty in the early hours of the afternoon. 

As Obi-Wan drifted towards the long, grubby bar, he vaguely noted the hum of a holo-display and allowed his gaze to rove in its direction. As if purposely moving to intercept his line of sight, one of the ancient droids, wheels creaking, rolled between him and the flickering display, bearing a teetering tray of dirty dishware. 

A Rodian sat in a booth against the far wall, staring intently at their drink. Nearby, seated in front of the bar, a Theelin female slumped over the table, eyes half-lidded in a drunken stupor, indicating a mind somewhere far, far away.

Suppressing a sigh, Obi-Wan moved his gaze to the Nimbanel bartender who was turned away from the entrance. The man turned as Obi-Wan approached, a cocktail shaker and a grimy towel in his hands.

There was silence as Obi-Wan took in his surroundings, barely comprehending anything besides the oppressive void in the Force pressing against his senses. 

In the past, before… everything… he would never have wanted that sort of emptiness, to have such a sense of distance and liberation from himself and from the world around him—the release from himself…

There had always existed a temptation to reach into the Force for stability and warmth. But no longer. 

Now, it was shadowed by darkness, an open, festering wound that burned terribly each time he reached into its midst.

For that reason, he didn’t indulge himself with that temptation—or, at least, not as much as he did in the past.

Not that the past really mattered right now. The past was the past, and he couldn’t afford to think about it too much.

Thinking about  _ anything _ too deeply was…not a good idea.

The bartender was staring at him oddly, which was not exactly surprising considering he’d been standing at the entrance for far longer than what could be considered to be normal. As if in a dreamlike trance, Obi-Wan placed an order and moved forward to one of the cubes towards the secluded left side of the seating area.

Attention was the last thing he needed nowadays, even his mind, adrift and detached as it was, knew that much. 

He lowered himself into the seat and leaned into the worn cushions, hands resting in his lap as he gazed sightlessly at the opposing chair. 

The last time he’d been here, the holonet had been playing the latest news, the old speakers crackling overtop the hum of voices. But now everything was silent… muffled… 

From where he sat, Obi-Wan could see the terminal containing the rotating holoprojector quite easily. The figures were tiny, flickering, and blue. Eventually, he would have to move closer to make sense of them, but for now…

One of the droids returned with his order, a small, dusty, old astromech with a tray attached to its domed head; by the time the droid had finally turned around to leave him, Obi-Wan had already poured half of the drink down his throat, the coolness soothing the dryness of dehydration.

He sipped at the rest of the drink more slowly, feeling slightly light-headed. Closing his eyes momentarily, Obi-Wan let the quiet wash over his senses. 

The stillness of the cantina was good, after all; it meant there would be less of a chance of discovery, less of a chance of being recognized, and any loud noises would would just grate against him in—

Sudden chills ran down Obi-Wan’s spine, and he repressed the urge to shiver. There had been one moment when the quietness had been  _ too  _ much.

A moment that haunted his dreams and his waking moments in isolation… 

The cold, empty,  _ quiet  _ corridors of the Temple, and all around him were—

Bodies—mangled and limp. Younglings, Knights, Masters, all lying on the ground, discarded,  _ forgotten _ . 

They’d been betrayed in the worst ways possible, all because of  _ him _ .

Left behind, and cast aside.

He blinked, and there was a flash of fire across his vision, and a horrible scream ringing through his ears, an echo of a memory.

_ “I hate you!” _

Shaking his head roughly, Obi-Wan downed the rest of his drink and stood up. Then, slowly he moved over to the terminal, taking in the sight of the flickering, rotating holo-images.

There, staring up at him, were the faces of his family—the holographic features of the fallen glittering as the dull, false eyes gazed sightlessly towards him. 

They were the survivors with the most bounty on their heads: the Jedi Order, once dedicated to the Republic and everything it used to stand for, before everything fell apart, now reduced to  _ this _ .

  
  


The holo flickered as it rotated, and Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as a familiar pair of eyes stared defiantly up at him. He blinked, and for a moment, it felt as though he was standing at the Chamber of Judgment all over again, staring down at his Grandpadawan as she was expelled from the Order.

His fault. 

His  _ failure _ . 

  
  


He shook his head and looked at the bold flickering text just below the holo, and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

_ JEDI PADAWAN AHSOKA TANO: TERMINATED _

Over the past few visits that he’d made to this cantina, he had convinced himself to not completely believe whatever it was the terminal displayed. 

Deaths could be faked, after all.

He would know. 

The few times that Obi-Wan had attempted to reach into the Force since his arrival three weeks ago, he hadn’t been not able to sense Ahsoka, not even once. He’d told himself that it was because she could have been in hiding. Or maybe the Force was simply too damaged—too  _ broken _ —to allow him to sense any other Jedi.

There were a number of possibilities, but this—

He swallowed and shook his head, pressing a hand to the base of the console.

The terminal whirred and clicked as it rotated beneath his fingers, displaying the faces of countless Jedi, some of whom had a rather surmountable bounty on their heads. 

How many of them had he walked past in the Jedi Temple without thought or comprehension? How many of them had he even ever spoken to? 

There were Padawans on that list,  _ Younglings _ even. Had he taught them in classes before? 

Suddenly Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to look at it any longer, and closed his eyes. 

Everything seemed so  _ dark _ —so convoluted and lost… 

And yet… there was something that seemed even  _ darker _ , a question that had haunted his mind since he’d first ever laid eyes on the list of “wanted” Jedi survivors. 

It made little sense.

The Empire  _ should  _ know about his survival. He’d seen the holos, heard the whispers about the Emperor’s shadow, enforcing his will through any means possible.

Vader, they called him. And  _ that  _ name was…

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan pulled away from the terminal, only to be stopped by a whispered voice drifting from near the entrance, where two Rodians stood in a huddle.

_ “…crash site…Venator-class…” _

Discreetly, Obi-Wan turned himself away, staring intently at the holo-menu above the bartender’s head while straining to hear more of the whispered conversation.

_ “It was found…random moon. Reports say there were no survivors, but…burial ground.” _

_ “Must be haunted by the Jedi who died there.” _

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the sound of blood roaring in his ears.

His Grandpadawan had been on a Venator-class ship when the clones turned on the Jedi. Obi-Wan remembered getting the message from the Council about Maul’s capture, just before he confronted Grievous on Utapau.

But if there was a crash site, and no  _ survivors _ , then—

_ Ahsoka _ .

It seemed to come almost from nowhere, a strange crushing feeling around his chest, preventing him from breathing deeply. Around him, the cantina swam in and out of focus as his head slipped into a steady pounding throb. 

On instinct, he opened himself up to the Force, seeking the comfort and light that had always soothed him before.

That was Obi-Wan’s first mistake.

The Force was no longer what it once was. Once upon a time, it had been bright and warm, teeming with the light of the Jedi Order. Now, however, the light had been almost entirely snuffed out, and darkness pressed into his senses, oppressive and filled with a cold absence of all life.

And he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, could no longer depend on what he remembered of the Force—not like he did before.

The darkness residing in the Force lashed out against him, a subtle, yet blazing inferno, and he retreated. Distantly, he could hear himself gasping for air, struggling to get in a single deep breath so that he would just have enough oxygen. The tightness around his lungs was quickly turning into a burning pain, and he felt tremors wrack his body, buckling his knees, sending him to the cantina’s dirty floor.

A hand slammed into the side of the holo and he felt vague sparks of pain lance up his arm.

He blinked, as the fire danced around him, tongues of red-orange flame licking into the sky—

The world was burning, collapsing in on itself. There was the sound of lightsabers crackling against each other, a struggle between Light and Dark, and the voice that haunted him day and night ever since he got to this blasted planet—

He just wanted it all to end.

But that was impossible, and Obi-Wan knew that.

He was losing air, no matter how much he struggled to breathe through the horrible tightness in his throat. It was as though his body was just giving up on him, after everything.

He was going to die on a dirty cantina floor in the middle of nowhere on Tatooine, alone and forgotten, a fading memento from a lost religion… of a lost people… 

Perhaps it would be for the best.

  
  


“Hey, man, you alright?”

Obi-Wan blinked as a hand, heavy and unfamiliar, placed itself on his shoulder. Through his blurring vision, he saw the Theelin female kneeling in front of him, eyes squinted at him in a mixture of mild annoyance and awkward concern.

He had the feeling that everyone in the cantina was looking at him, which was… unfortunate.

Opening his mouth, Obi-Wan gulped in a mouthful of air, chest heaving with the effort. As he focused on getting air into his lungs, thinking back to the calming exercises he learned in the crèche all those years ago, the world seemed to settle around him.

The Theelin was still staring at him, brows furrowed. 

With a quick nod, Obi-Wan pulled himself up to his feet, forcing in deep, heaving breaths through the tightness in his lungs. He could still feel himself shaking, but he needed _out_ , before anything more would happen. He glanced through the window, noticing that the suns were beginning to set, which meant he would need to begin his journey back to his hut, if he didn’t want to travel in the cold of Tatooine’s night, _again_.

As he turned, making his way towards the cantina’s exit, he felt the eyes still on his back—following his every move.

Stepping into the afternoon daylight, he paused outside the cantina’s door, swiftly bringing the hood of his robe up to cover his face properly.

There was…something, not quite right. A strange tension, a prickling behind his neck, as though—

No, he had to be imagining things. Whatever it was that happened in the cantina was still affecting him, after all.

He needed to move, to focus on getting home. He had a mission, a  _ purpose _ on Tatooine, even in his isolation from the galaxy.

Slowly placing one foot before the other, keenly aware of the subtle shadows moving behind him in the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi began to make his way back toward the desert wastes.

To the place of his exile. 

Home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment on your way out!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter :)


End file.
